


The Chocolate Icing, Ass-kicking, Birthday Surprise

by leftennant



Series: Road Trip of Champions [10]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies), Wintershock - Fandom
Genre: Baking, Birthday, Established Relationship, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Love, Romance, Snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-26
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2018-09-20 02:07:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9470624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leftennant/pseuds/leftennant
Summary: Darcy's only in it for the pension checks.  Either that, or she loves him.  Bucky is pretty sure it's the second one.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hollyspacey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hollyspacey/gifts), [JanetSnakehole](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JanetSnakehole/gifts), [amidtheflowers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amidtheflowers/gifts).



> Dude. Lotsa people had birthdays lately in Darcyland. LOTSA PEOPLE!!!! Therefore, fic was required.  
> Also this: HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!
> 
> ***************************************************************

It’s been a long day, and an even longer night. The whole team has been working nonstop out on the practice field, old members of the Avengers paired up with the new. Bucky gets it. Steve is trying to take a mass of rogue individuals and meld them into something that works like a unit. It’s necessary for the survival of the whole team, but it’s also goddamn exhausting. What Bucky wants is a shower and bed, in that order, and if a certain brunette is in the bed, so much the better. In fact, what he really wants is shower and _her_ bed, and that’s exactly what he’s going to do.

It’s past midnight when he’s finally standing in front of her door waiting for Friday to complete the retinal scan. He expects Darcy to be long asleep. However, he can hear sounds coming through the door that let him know she isn’t. Not just any sounds, either. The whole place is echoing with a loud, off-key version of It Had to Be You, and mechanical whirring that he recognizes as her stand mixer. Bucky’s already smiling when the lock clicks open. He pauses in the doorway, watching as she shuts off the mixer and picks up a wooden spoon, still singing.

“ _It must have been that something lovers call fate. Kept me saying, I have to wait…_ ” Darcy sticks the spoon into the bowl, bringing it to her mouth, and licking what looks like chocolate icing off of it. Her eyebrows raise, and she nods appreciatively. Then she twists the bowl loose from the mixer, and begins singing again. “ _I saw them all, just couldn’t fall, ‘til we met. It had to be you..._ ”

Bucky pulls the door shut behind him, and she immediately glances up. Someone else might have been embarrassed being caught singing like that. Not Darcy. She just sings louder, pointing the spoon at him when she reaches the word ‘you’. He grins at her, and heads over to the kitchen island separating them.

“So,” she says, leaning her elbows on the counter, “are you enjoying the performance, Sergeant Barnes?”

“I’m definitely enjoying the performer,” he responds. “Although I think maybe she missed her calling in silent films.”

“Well you’d know all about that, grandpa. You’re old as fuck. What am I making this cake for? Your ninety-eighth? Ninety-ninth?”

He laughs, shaking his head. “I dunno, not really keeping track.”

“Lucky for you, I am,” Darcy replies. 

“Are you?”

“Mmhmm. For the record, you were born on March 10th, 1917. I’ve got it saved on my phone calendar and everything. I’d like to reiterate how old as fuck you are, by the way. Bucky Barnes, you are _ancient_. I’m surprised they haven’t stuck you and Steve into your own glass case down at the Smithsonian along with all that Howlies memorabilia they’ve got.”

“Makes you wonder why you’re with me,” he says.

She tilts her head, and flashes him a toothy smile. “Oh that’s easy. I’m in it for the pension checks.”

“The pension checks, huh?”

“You betcha. A girl’s gotta eat.”

His stomach growls, reminding him that the protein bar he scarfed down a few hours earlier is long gone. “While we’re on the subject of eating…” he begins, reaching towards the bowl full of icing, and she cuts him off.

“No.”

“I thought you said it was my cake.”

“It’s for tomorrow. Besides, this icing is rationed. _Rationed_ , old man. I need all of it, or the cake won’t be smooth.”

“Come on, Doll,” he wheedles. “Who’s gonna miss one spoonful?”

“It would never just be one spoonful, and you know it. The last time you raided my fridge, I was left with two ketchup packets, and half a pickle. Who leaves half a pickle? Who???" She plants a hand on her apron-covered hip. "You know, things were so much easier back when you used to act like I poisoned your food. Remember that? The french fries in Pennsylvania? I practically had to force them in your mouth.”

“You mean our first date?” he asks, shifting stealthily towards the edge of the island.

“What kind alternative timeline are you trying to foist on me here, that you’re claiming Pennsylvania was our first date? It was absolutely not our first date.”

“I pulled your chair out.”

Darcy snorts. “Because Steve _made_ you.”

“We shared a Coke.” 

“Which you also acted like I poisoned.”

“I walked you to the car.” He’s around the edge of the island now, resting his forearm on it casually like he’s not about to wrestle the spoon out of her hand.

“It was our turn to drive,” she counters dryly. “Also, don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing right now. I do, and let me just say, you are gonna get your ass kicked if you so much as touch this spoon.”

“You know, Spot, we go through this every single time. You threaten me. I accept your challenge, and then _someone_...” He stares meaningfully at her. “...ends up on her back, admitting defeat, while someone else walks off with the glory.”

She widens her stance slightly, moving the spoon behind her back. “That is a bald-faced lie, James. I have no fucking clue what this ‘walking away with the glory’ garbage is. You know full well that it always ends in sex. Which, by the way? Is me winning. Trust me.” 

“I’m sorry, Spot, do my ears deceive me, or did you just call me a liar?”

“Well I didn’t call you a truther. That’s for sure.”

“I see.”

“Yeah.” She nods. “Are we doing this or what? Because I’ve been working on my defensive moves with Sharon, and I am so ready for…” 

Her sentence ends in a shriek as he springs at her. In seconds, Bucky has her pinned against the refrigerator. One hand is trapped above her head, his fingers wrapped around her wrist. Her other hand, the one with the spoon in it, is still loose, and she’s using it to smack him in the arm. Her kitchen is briefly full of the sound of wood clanging on metal until he captures that wrist too, and pulls it up to join the first one. Then he shoves a knee between her legs to prevent her from wriggling away.

“How’s kicking my ass going?” Bucky asks once she’s more or less immobile.

“Are you kidding me?” Darcy tosses her head as best she can with her body flush against the fridge. “It’s great. I'm winning as we speak."

"I hate to tell ya, but that's not what it looks like from where I'm standing." 

"Whatever. I’ve just lulled you into a false sense of security so I can enact my master plan.”

“That so?”

“Yep.” 

“Let me know when you start it,” he says, switching both her wrists into one hand so he can grab the spoon. 

“Pffft. What do you think this is? A James Bond movie? I’m not telling you shit.” She glares furiously at him as he dips the spoon into the mixing bowl. “Don’t you even dare! I will murder you where you stand!”

He puts the icing covered spoon into his mouth, licks off the icing, and swallows. “What was that? I missed everything after the part where you said you weren’t telling me shit.”

“Dead. You are dead.”

“Yeah yeah, you always say that.” Bucky scoops up more icing. “Jesus, Doll, this is delicious. You want some?”

For a long moment Darcy just eyes the spoon hovering near her mouth with narrowed eyes. Then she sighs. “Yes, jerkface. I want some.”

“See? I knew you’d come around.” He watches as she licks the spoon, before popping it back in his own mouth and scraping the rest off with his teeth. 

“Like I said, I’m only doing it for the pension checks,” she declares around her next mouthful of icing. “And the sex. And because I love you, but mostly the pension checks.”

“Doll, we both know I don’t collect pension checks.”

“It must be the other two then. Did you want cake with this icing? It’s in that container over there with the dome lid thing cooling.”

“We celebrating my birthday now, then?”

Darcy stretches up so her lips are nearly touching his as she speaks, and gives him a look that would scorch pavement. “Bucky Barnes, we’re gonna be celebrating your birthday all night.”


End file.
